The Seven Hills (35 page)

"Where is the helmet I gave you?"

"It suffered some damage," he told her. "The armorer and
the jeweler are working on it now."

"Must you practice at swords in your best dress uniform?" she asked, exasperated. "Well, never mind. Just
make the best show you can. We are going to perform before the court. I am going out there now. You be ready to come at
my summons." Amid a flurry of serving girls and fan wa
vers, she strode out into the vast room and took her seat next
to her brother. A hundred courtiers and foreign dignitaries bowed deeply and made sounds of worshipful admiration.

"What's it to be, do you think?" Flaccus asked. "A treaty or our execution?"

Marcus gave it some thought. "I don't think she'd have inquired about my helmet if she planned to have us killed."

A few minutes later the steward summoned them and they followed him into the throne room. They passed between lines of dignitaries, many of them attended by their own retinues, most of whom watched the Romans with calculation as they made their way toward the dais that held the twin thrones.

Not quite twins, though. Selene's throne, to the right of her brother's, was slightly higher. Ptolemy, still no more
than a boy, sat sullenly, watching the Romans with no favor.
They had eliminated his counselors and set his sister above him. She had made him dress decently in Greek fashion, without the wigs and cosmetics with which his former handlers had adorned him.

The Romans halted before the dais and bowed in the only fashion approved by Roman etiquette: a slight inclination of the head.

"I wish it to be known to the people of Egypt," Selene began, "to the Senate and people of Rome, and to all the world, that Hamilcar of Carthage is a menace to the lives and liberties of all people who dwell around the Middle Sea. In all the world, there are only two nations capable of resisting his vicious aggression: the glorious kingdom of Egypt and the Re
public of Rome with its dauntless legions. To this end, I
proclaim a treaty of alliance and friendship between the na
tions of Egypt and Rome." She held a hand out to one side
and an official placed a scroll into her upturned palm. With a
hieratic gesture she brought it before her and unrolled it, with her arms at full extension. It looked impressive, made
of parchment from Pergamum instead of the more common
papyrus. It bore a great deal of gold leaf, lavishly applied, and carried a large waxen seal stamped with the Ptolemaic
device and a somewhat smaller seal stamped with Selene's personal cartouche, with her Egyptian reign-name in hieroglyphics. The text was written in austere Attic Greek letters.

"This document," she announced, "makes official and lasting the relationship between our nations. It specifies trade relations, mutual rights to port facilities, the aid and repatriation of shipwrecked mariners and so forth. It spells out the relative values of goods and spheres of trade influence. These are very simple, because Rome is not a commercial power arid there is almost no problem of competition.

"In the military sphere, our armed forces are to operate as
one in the war with Hamilcar of Carthage. Rome's army is formidable, but her navy is in its infancy, small and untried against the naval might of Carthage. Egypt's navy is great, and I shall call upon the ships of our sister kingdom of Cyprus and our allies of Rhodes, Crete and the Greek cities of Asia. Together, we will prove more than a match for Hamilcar.

"Our land formations will be commanded at the unit
level by our professional officer corps, under the overall di
rection of our good and trusted friend, Marcus Cornelius
Scipio of Rome." She looked at the Romans. "Marcus Cor
nelius Scipio, approach."

He took the few steps forward. With an efficient gesture she rerolled the treaty and handed it to him. He accepted it
with the same minuscule bow. She held her hand to one side
again and a different official gave her a massive collar of gold. This she placed over Marcus's head, forcing him to bend his neck a bit more.

"Show a little humility," she whispered, "you arrogant twit!"

This ceremony accomplished, Marcus backed away a few steps. "On behalf of the Senate and People of Rome, I accept
this document for the Senate's approval, which, I have no doubt, will be granted wholeheartedly. This signals a new era for Rome, for Egypt and for the world. Not for many lifetimes have two great powers sworn friendship and cooperation. Never before have two such united to resist the depredations of a would-be conqueror.

"When Egypt and Rome together have eliminated for all time the threat of Carthage, all the world that borders the
Middle Sea may look forward to a golden age, for Rome and
Egypt together will protect them from any who henceforth would aspire to the crown and empire and reputation of Alexander."

To this Selene said nothing, but her look, and that of the
onlookers, said it all:
And who will protect the world from you
Romans?

"A ship," the signals officer announced. The massive army of Titus Norbanus the younger was encamped outside the walls of Massilia, an old Greek colony established on the southern coast of Gaul, where it had prospered mightily. Norbanus had demanded their immediate surrender, but the citizens feared Roman reprisal because they had contributed troops to Mastanabal's army.

Norbanus looked up from where he stood on his command platform. The city was not yet formally under siege, pending a decision of its council, but Norbanus liked to keep control from a position that left no one in doubt of his military preeminence.

"What sort of ship, and is it alone?" he asked.

The signals officer stood with the rest of his staff to one side
of the platform. He was squinting toward a small headland to the southeast, where lights flashed from mirrors of polished silver. "A single vessel of unknown type," he reported.

"Unknown type? How many are there? Is it military or a
merchant vessel?"

From where they stood the sun was at the wrong angle for mirror signaling, and there was too much wind for
smoke, so the signals officer ordered certain flags raised on
long poles and waved according to his direction. More flashes answered. "Says he doesn't know."

"Doesn't know, eh?" Norbanus said. "If it turns out to be
some common vessel, I'll have his balls for lunch."

"My staff know their work, General," the signals officer
replied stiffly.

Norbanus had lost interest. He studied the walls opposite him, assault plans running through his head. He did
not want to lay siege to this place, but he would if necessary.
He had several reasons for reluctance. One was delay. He was impatient to come to grips with Hamilcar before some other Roman commander, even his father, should have a
chance to. Another was a certain proposal he had in mind to
put before the Massiliotes; one he thought would surprise
them. But barring a favorable outcome, he would massacre
them all. He did not really wish to slaughter civilized Greeks, particularly the inhabitants of a city that had sided with Rome in the wars with Carthage. But if an example had to be made, he would make it here.

"There it is!" someone shouted later. Norbanus looked to
see a bizarre little ship rounding the cape. Actually, he thought, the ship itself was not especially odd. But its long, triangular sail was unlike anything he had seen before. Not
that his nautical experience was vast. Like most Romans, he
had never laid eyes upon the sea until crossing south of the Alps less than three years previously. Only a few Romans
who had traveled or soldiered as far as the Northern Sea had
seen such a body of water, and seafaring was utterly new to them. Still, all the sails Norbanus had laid eyes on before were square.

"Go get the fleet master," he ordered, and a messenger hurried off. Norbanus's fleet filled Massilia's splendid harbor, and while Roman officers commanded it, most of the ships had Greek sailing masters under the direction of a Greek fleet master. The Romans were still too new on the water to trust their own skills. The weather-beaten Greek climbed to the platform and saluted.

"What sort of ship is that?" Norbanus asked, pointing to the little craft just making its way through the fleet in the harbor.

"Never saw the like of it," the man admitted. "I've heard of Indian ships that must look like that, but never laid eyes
on one. The hull looks Alexandrian, so I'd say what we have
here is one of the toys they've been playing with. I'd like to get aboard her and see how that sail works."

Even as they spoke, the yard lowered and the blue sail with its hippocampus was furled. Long sweeps, three to a side, were run out and the ship was laboriously rowed up to a stone pier.

"Scipio," Norbanus said, shaking his head. "Does he think he can impress me with another of his playthings? If
so, he should have sent one of those flying men I hear he has.
Now that would impress me." His officers chuckled. Nobody knew whether they should believe the stories coming out of Alexandria.

Norbanus studied the angle of the sun. "It's late," he announced. "There won't be any fighting today. If that boat carries anyone of importance, send them to my tent."

Later, he was sitting at dinner with his officers when two
men were ushered in. They were Greeks with the look of scholars, but they carried a number of document cases that
bore Roman markings. They bowed before the general and
introduced themselves.

"Zeno and Izates?" Norbanus said. "I've heard of you. Some sort of philosopher-historians with a roving commis
sion from the Senate as messengers and envoys, aren't you?"

"That is roughly the situation," said the handsomer of the two. I can't claim that we have any official status, but we've been enjoying the duties immensely."

"Spoken like a true Greek," Norbanus said. "Have a seat
and join us for dinner while I look over what you've brought
us." The first document to come beneath his eye was from Marcus Scipio. This one he set aside for later, so as not to ruin his appetite. Others were from the Senate and from contacts in Rome and on Sicily. The little ship had stopped at Syracuse and Ostia on its way to him. These he perused with interest. His father was now at Lilybaeum, amassing his army. The city was the westernmost point of the island,
just a short hop across the strait from Carthage—always as
suming that the Carthaginian fleet would not interfere with the hop.

The elder Norbanus informed his son that there had been
great anger and bitterness when he arrived to take over
command. Scaeva and his principal officers were outraged that, after securing Sicily for Rome, they were to be shunted
aside in favor of a proconsul just sent out from Rome with
his own clique of senior officers. The old family officers,
headed by the Cornelia Scipiones, were his enemies to a
man. Had they not been Romans, he wrote, and sticklers for
subordination to Senate orders, there would have been mutiny.

The legionaries grumbled a bit but there had been no serious insubordination. With the huge expansion of the le
gions, the bulk of them were new family men, most of them just a generation or two removed from their Gallic and Ger
man tribal origins. They might admire the officers who had led them to victory, but they resented the aristocratic airs of too many of them to allow a takeover by a Norbanus to upset them.

The Senate communications he scanned briefly and set
aside.
A pack of fretting old women,
he thought,
afraid now be
cause they've just realized that practically every Roman soldier is
away from.Italy.
They were sending him several cohorts of
the newly raised auxiliary forces, mostly Italian natives and many of them freshly retired from their vocation as bandits.
He looked forward to trying them out. They might prove useful and would certainly be expendable. Highly trained Roman legionaries were never expendable.

"One other thing we've brought you," said the Greek named Zeno. "It's a gift from Quee—that is, the Princess
Regent Selene." He produced a beautiful wooden box inlaid
with shell and ivory. It was about a cubit long. He slipped
its delicate latch and opened the lid. Inside was what looked
like a tube of dark wood, both ends ringed with bronze
chased with a Greek key fret. From one end protruded a cir
cle of ivory shaped like a shallow cup.

"What is it?" Norbanus asked, intrigued despite himself. The thing looked valuable.

"Another product of the Archimedean school." Zeno took the thing from the box. First he showed Norbanus and the others the end lacking the ivory finial. It was covered with a cap of thin bronze, which he removed, displaying a
large piece of glass that seemed to be slightly convex. Then he reversed it and showed the ivory end. In its center was a much smaller piece of glass. He grasped the ivory circle and
tugged at it. A tube of bronze slid from inside the wooden
cylinder.

"This is a device for making distant objects seem nearer. You gaze through the small lens in the ivory eyepiece"—he
put the thing to his own eye—"and you aim the larger lens toward the object you wish to examine." He turned and pointed the instrument toward the tent entrance, which
faced the landward gate of Massilia. "If the object appears
fuzzy, you adjust the length of the instrument until it becomes clear." He showed how minute adjustments could be made to the sliding tube. He handed it to Norbanus. The
general put the ivory piece to his eye and aimed the thing to
ward the gate.